


New, Old, Blue and Borrowed

by Laurincia



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Friends to Lovers, I didn't edit this oops, M/M, My brain isn't working and I can't think of more tags rn, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smoke is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-25 00:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13822818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurincia/pseuds/Laurincia
Summary: Broken things can get put back together. It might not be back to its original state, but they can be put back together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I planned to get this out for Valentine's. HAH THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN OH WELL OOPS

The season of love, whether or not you had someone or not, it seemed impossible to get away from red flowers, pink heart-shaped balloons, and large teddy bears, even in Hereford. Mike was sitting at a table in the mess hall, minding his own business while taking a sip of hot green tea when loud shouting arose from the hallways. He sighed and set the mug down on the table, pinching the bridge of his nose. Someone stood behind him and chuckled. “They’re still young, let them have their fun.” 

Mike turned his head to see the tall French pointman from his peripherals. He let out a dry laugh. “Maybe so.” 

Gilles shrugged and sat down next to Mike. “You have anyone special?” He asked. 

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Fancy me, that it?”

The French operator lets out a hearty chuckle. “You caught me,” he stood back up and placed a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t be so bitter about them.” 

Mike hummed and picked up his mug, taking another sip. Gilles pats his shoulder and walked off towards the source of all the shouting, lightly dragging his hand along Mike’s upper back, lifting away after he reached the other shoulder.  _ ‘That was strange…’ _

 

“Why you so angry, Maggie? The love starting to break down your walls?” James asked in a teasing tone. 

“Bugger off,” Mike muttered, polishing his pistol. 

“You fancy someone,” James stated.

“No.”

“Someone fancies you?”

“No.” 

Seamus laughed loudly falling back onto his bunk bed. Mike looked at the Scottish man with a confused and disapproving look but didn’t ask any questions. “What are you idiots on about?” 

James glanced over at Mark with a questioning stare. “Should we tell him?” 

Mark frowned and shook his head. “Nah, mate, I’d rather see if Maggie can figure it out on his own, it’s quite obvious.” 

“Maybe not to him,” Seamus said, tapping his fingers against his thighs. 

 

~~~~~

 

Mike spent his day in the shooting range, firing at moving targets to keep himself sharp. He emptied a clip into a mannequin's head and chest and set down his rifle on the wooden counter. He took off the bulky earmuffs and let them rest, hanging around his neck. Someone was clapping and walking, coming closer to him. Mike turned around to see Gilles, clapping with a calm expression. “Nice shooting, just what I expected of our best and oldest,” the French complimented. 

“Thanks,” Mike muttered, eyeing the younger as he walked over to the guns to pick up the D50. He quickly inspected the pistol and ejected the clip before inserting it again. He walked up to a booth and pulled back the hammer, aiming down at one of the targets. He had a good form, hips, slightly forward, legs apart, torso back. Both his hands were wrapped around the grip, pointing the barrel down at a mannequin on the other end of the range, and pulled the trigger. Gilles handled the recoil beautifully, letting his arms go up instead of back into his face. Muscles rippled with the force. The tight, navy blue shirt he was wearing only emphasized his figure; a solid mass of muscle. Gilles lowered the pistol with a smug look on his face. “Let’s see those water dogs try to top that.” Gilles tossed the pistol in the air rather carelessly and caught it on by the barrel, holding it out for Mike. 

Mike scoffed and took the silver pistol from Gilles, sauntered up to the booth and mirrored his pose. Judging by the way Craig and Meghan occasionally flail around while handling the thing, it’s recoil is not to be messed with. He took a deep breath, aimed at the mannequin's head, and pulled the trigger. The kickback was more intense than he had expected and yelped, flinching back, just barely managing to prevent his own arms from breaking his face. 

Gilles laughed and held him steady with a hand on the small of Mike’s back. 

“Here, let me,” Gilles gently took a hold of Mike’s arms and raised them up, pointing the barrel down the range again. He stepped behind Mike and gently placed his hands on Mike’s hips, adjusting their position forward a bit. “Is this really necessary?” Mike asked. 

“You need to learn how to use different guns other than the ones you like, or the ones you’re used to,” Gilles stated. Hands reached forward and took a hold of Mike’s wrist. His back was pressed up against Gilles’ brick wall of a torso, and he took a deep breath. 

The Frenchman’s face was close to his. “Pull the trigger,” Gilles whispered.

Mike didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. Instead of a repeat of last time, Gilles guided his arms up, controlling the recoil. “Nicely done!” 

Mike could hear the proudness in the other’s voice. 

 

~~~~~

 

Mike couldn’t sleep well that night, instead of taking the time off to shut up his brain to rest, he stayed up to a ridiculous hour overthinking everything that happened with Gilles. He made his way to the mess hall, radiating anger. The other’s in his unit weren’t awake yet, so he took the initiative to eat by himself. The mess hall was decorated in obnoxious pink and red streamers, hearts, and balloons for the upcoming holiday. He paid no attention to the decorations and made his way to grab a random tray of food that was already set out, looking like it was made by one of the French, and walked back to his table before a hand landed on his shoulder, guiding Mike away from his normal table. It was Gilles. “You alright?” The Frenchman asked. 

Mike grunted and followed Gilles to the French table silently. “Did you get any sleep, monsieur?” Gustave asked, scooting over to the end of the bench to make room for Gilles and Mike. The two stepped over the bench before taking a seat. “Not really,” Mike muttered, stabbing a fork into the lavishly cooked eggs. 

“We have a long day ahead of us,” Julien said, pouring some orange juice out of a glass pitcher and into a plastic cup, sliding it over to Mike. The Brit stopped the cup before it fell off the table and muttered out thanks. “What exactly are we doing?” Mike asked. He vaguely remembered Six talking about something during a meeting, but he was too tired to recall what it was. 

“Training recruits,” Gustave piped up. “Butter?” The doctor held out the tray of butter and Mike shook his head. The French were a nice change of pace, considering how own group of rowdy individuals. They were nice, and hospitable, to the point where it back suspicious. 

 

Recruits were stupid, there was no doubt about that. They went over some basic drills, seeing what they know and what they need to learn. Thankfully, they were already decently trained, just the occasional control freak and rebel came up here and there, but it was nothing a quick wrestling match with Julien couldn't keep in check. Everyone took control of their own thing with a small group of recruits, switching out every ten to twenty minutes. Mike walked around carrying a clipboard in his hands, making sure no one was killing each other and everything was running on time and smoothly. He passed by Maxim and Tina who were talking about the basics and necessities of trapping and went over to Gilles and Elias. He stayed out of their way while they were explaining their special gadgets when Gilles called him over. “Anyone know who this is?” Gilles asked the group of recruits, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

No one said a thing and Mike let out a dry laugh. 

“This,” Gilles gave him a light squeeze. “Is our old man, Thatcher anti-electronics expert,” Gilles introduced. 

Several noises of realization and recognition came from the recruits. “Didn't recognize him without the mask,” one muttered. 

Mike paid no attention to the hand that was still on his shoulder and spoke up. “If you're going to work with us, then you need to know all the essentials, and recognizing people's uniforms, with and without masks.” 

Elias nodded in agreement. He should know, as he's been mistaken for Dominic nearly five times already, although it wasn't nearly as much as Julien and Gustave, who basically wears the same exact thing to battle. 

  
  


Everyone survived training, and James had loudly announced that they were going out to eat, courtesy of Mark's wallet. “We should invite someone else to come along,” James loud whispered to Mark. Mike raised an eyebrow but said nothing. 

“Hey, Gilles!” Seamus called out to the Frenchman walking past them when they were nearly out there door. “Care to join us for some dinner?” 

The man in question stopped to think for a moment. “Sure, I have nothing else to do.”

And thus, Gilles joined their ranks for tonight. 

 

Since Mark was apparently generous enough to pay for everything, he had the honor of picking where they would eat in England. Out of all possible places, he picked a nearby pub. No one protested too much, and all walked in, taking a seat at a booth. James went to the bar and took the initiative to instantly order a large platter of chicken wings and as much beer as they have. He returned shortly, holding a bottle opener and several beer bottles in his hand and set them down on the table. “Drink up boys, everything is on Mark,” James loudly proclaimed. 

“Why's that?” Mike questioned, grabbing a beer bottle that James uncapped. 

“There's no need to worry about that, Maggie,” James stated. He did a horrible job of reassuring Mike that everything was going to be alright and set down the last beer bottle that as uncapped. He went over to the other booth behind Gilles and Mike, knelt down on the seat and wrapped his arms around Mike, pulling him into a bad hug. 

“Are your dinners normally like this?” Gilles asked, taking a sip of the beer. 

Mike shook his head and did the same. “These muppets are jus’ up to somethin’ is all.”

“Us?  _ Never,” _ James said in an exaggerated valley girl voice. 

“Regardless, I'm glad you invited me to come along,” Gilles smiled, holding out his beer for some rounds of clinking. 

 

The food had arrived and everyone was engaged in a conversation about embarrassing habits. Mike didn't even really know how it started, but it's the conversation topic for the night. “Mark leaves his jammers out everywhere and gets mad at James for it,” Mike said, chuckling. 

Mark stuck out his tongue in response and took a sip of some mead that Mike had ordered after their supply of beer started running low. “What about you, Mike, any embarrassing habits?” Gilles asked, angling his body to look at the older Brit. 

James spoke up before Mike was able to. “He groans a lot when taking hot showers,” he smirked moving to stand next to Mike. He started to massage Mike’s shoulders. “Truly an old man,” Mike grunted in response and elbowed James in the gut. 

Mark muttered some hung about James deserving it before clearing his throat. “Sometimes he binge buys survival packs,” he chuckled. He didn't mention why and Mike appreciated the youngest bastard for not doing so. 

In response, Mike scoffed loudly. “No, I don't!” 

Seamus laughed and brought his fist down on the table with a loud thunk. “Sometimes, James challenges Mike to fist fights when they're both pissed. Hilarious to see Mike kick his arse, and not the gentle kind either, James gets  _ pummeled. _ ” 

Chuckling, Gilles took a drink from his nearly empty glass of wine that he got for himself. “I'd like to see that sometime.”

 

It was late. Seamus and Mark had to tear James away from the bar and took a taxi back to the general area of the base, leaving Mike and Gilles. The Frenchman was still relatively sober, not drinking too much in favor of making sure no one killed themselves, while the SAS went all out, including Mike. “It's not good to be drinking so much, you know?” Gilles muttered, guiding Mike around a crowd of people and keeping the other steady and relatively upright. In response, Mike muttered something incoherent and leaned on the other man. Gilles let out a soft sigh and stopped, instructing Mike to get on his back after kneeling down. The Brit muttered something again but got on with no complaints, wrapping his legs round Gilles’ side and his arms around his neck. Hands were holding him up from under his thighs and they started moving. Mike exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, resting his head on Gilles’ shoulder. “I remember them,” he muttered.

“Who?” Gilles asked. 

“I remember their faces, their screams. I remember everything.”

Mike could hear Gilles’ response, but he could tell it something heartfelt, something genuine. He let the ambient sounds of the city lull him to sleep alongside Gilles’ steady and calm breathing. 

 

~~~~~

 

Mike woke up to the sounds of loud and not so discreet whispering. He was still in his clothes from last night. He opened his eyes to a bright room, instantly triggering a head-splitting headache. 

“Look at what you cocks did, he’s awake now!” Mark yelled in a hushed whisper. 

James made a noise of surprise and protest while flailing around. Seamus sat on his bunk, slowly sipping a cup of tea. “What the  _ hell _ are you idiots doing?” Mike grumbled, sitting up in his bed. Mark handed him a glass of water and two pills of aspirin. 

Mike took the items from Mark and swallowed the pills, chasing them down with the water. He could remember bits and pieces of last night and instantly regretted drinking so much alcohol. James, who probably drank more, seemed perfectly fine, although it’s not the most surprising thing in the world as he works with toxins that he just throws around haphazardly in the middle of battle. James flipped off Seamus and crossed his arms, staring at Mike. “How did you get back last night?” 

Mike shrugged and Mark facepalmed. 

“Shouldn’t drink so much next time, Mikey,” Seamus suggested. “You’re ruining your already fading memory.” 

Mike grabbed one of his pillows and threw it at the breacher. “Fuck off!” 

Mark sighed and cracked his knuckles. “Gilles carried him back.” 

_ ‘Oh.’ _

James’ jaw dropped and stared at him, expression filled with disbelief, which soon turned into a dopey grin. “Aww, you sly bastard.” 

Mike just stared at the defender, trying not to let the confusion showed on his face. 

 

“You doing alright, Mike?” Gilles asked when he walked into the lounge. The Frenchman was standing by one of the coffee machines. He said nothing and nodded, walking over to the bookshelf to pick up a random piece of literature. He greeted Jordan and Yumiko where were sitting in front of one another, playing chess. He past Gilles and sat down on one of the sofas in the center of the lounge, in front of the television hanging on the wall and opened the book to a random page. Gilles came up behind him, placing his hands on his shoulders. “You’re too tense, you need to relax,” he muttered, starting to massage the tense muscles. 

Mike buried his face in the book and hummed, slowly forcing himself to relax, letting Gilles over, kneading the flesh with skilled hands. “Let me take you out to dinner tonight,” Gilles said quietly. 

Mike looked up from the book and tilted his head back to look at the Frenchman. “You serious?”

Gilles returned Mike’s gaze with a neutral expression. “Deadly.” The hands were taken off his shoulders. “Wear something nice,” Gilles suggested with a large smile on his face and left the lounge. Jordan and Yumiko were whispering and giggling loudly about something. 

 

Julien had been the messenger between the two, telling Mike all of Gilles’ instructions and returned to the French attacker with his own sarcastic questions. According to Julien, Gilles instructed him to ‘wear something nice and meet me at the door in five hours.’ Four and a half hours had passed, and Mike was in the room he shared with the other SAS operators, mulling over his wardrobe. He had discreetly dragged Seamus along for assistance. “Dressin’ up for a date, how cute,” Seamus chuckled to himself, looking through Mike’s clothes, trying to figure out what would be the best pick. 

“I don’t understand why he would want to,” Mike muttered, shaking his head when Seamus held up a tacky flower patterned button-up. 

Seamus folded the shirt back up and looked through the wardrobe once more. “Maybe he wants to get to know you better,” the Scotsman said. He took out another button-up - this time gray - and a dark, navy blue sweater. 

Mike shrugged and took the articles of clothing from Seamus and picked up a pair of slacks that were already on his bed. “Why though?”

“Maybe you’ll find out,” Seamus winked and pushed Mike towards the bathroom. 

 

Mike was making his way to the main entrance, letting his fingers run over the edge of the sweater’s sleeve, almost acting like a teenager in doubt that they were asked out by someone. Maybe that’s what this is, the nervousness, the doubt. Sure enough, Gilles was there, leaning against the wall, waiting patiently. The Frenchman stood up straight when he noticed Mike walking towards him and smiled, opening the main doors for him. Parked outside, was a sleek black car and a chauffeur standing by the trunk with his hands folded in front of him. The driver opened the door and Mike got into the car, with Gilles following suit. The chauffeur got into the driver's seat and pulled away from the base. 

“Where are we going?” Mike asked, looking out the window, taking in the scenery passing by. 

“It’s a surprise,” Gilles responded smugly, leaning back in the seat. He slung his left arm over the top of the seat, draping his arm over to Mike’s side. The Brit tried not to question Gilles’ motives, about whether or not this was a prank. Who knows, something good might come out of this experience, so he stayed silent. 

 

The driver stopped in front of a nice, expensive looking restaurant.  _ ‘We’re severely underdressed.’ _ Gilles opened the car door and stepped out, waiting for Mike. The taller man leads them both inside. There was a small line leading to the host, and Gilles took a gentle hold of Mike’s sleeve and pulled him towards the host. “Hello, we have a reservation.” 

The host faltered and craned his neck to look up at the Frenchman towering over her. “Last name?” She asked, quickly glancing at the iPad on the podium. 

“Touré,” Gilles grinned. 

She nodded and a waiter came up to them, instructing the two to follow her while grabbing two menus. She leads the two through the restaurant and back to a seemingly more intimate area of the restaurant, softer lighting mood lighting, ambient music, candles, and white tablecloths draping over round tables. She leads the two to an empty table and set down the menus, asking for drinks. Gilles asked for the best wine they had and pulled out a chair for Mike. She nodded and left for the wine. “Come on, don’t spend that much money,” Mike groaned, taking a seat in the chair that Gilles pulled out. 

“No, I insist.” The Frenchman gave Mike a heartwarming smile and sat down in the other chair opposite of him. 

Mike frowned and picked up the dark red menu, glancing over the options. 

“Don’t look at me like that, we earn enough to be lavish regardless.” 

“Well, this is unnecessarily lavish.” 

“Don’t be an old scrooge, just enjoy.” 

 

The dinner was a nice thing that Gilles did, even though he didn’t want to admit it out loud. They were walking side by side in the older part of town, taking in the scenery, tall buildings that still stood strong, people slowly walking or driving to get from point A to point B. They walked past this little antique store with items on display on the front window. Mike slowed to a stop and peered in scanning the items. Gilles halted and waited for the other, smiling to himself. One thing, in particular, caught Mike’s eye, a dark gray pistol resting on a bright, small, red pillow. The barrel and wooden grip were engraved with intricate flowing patterns and clover extrusions along the sides of the grip. It was beautiful. Gilles chuckled and placed a hand on his shoulder snapping him back into reality. He turned to look at the taller man. “You want it?” Gilles asked, gesturing to the pistol. 

Mike loudly scoffed and walked off. “No!” It was a blatant lie. 

Gilles snickered and followed. “Sure, whatever you say.”

 

When Mike returned to base, he just remembered that it was Valentine’s day.

 

~~~~~

 

Seamus was a good friend, not asking about his totally platonic dinner date with Gilles when they returned back to base. James and Mark, on the other hand, wouldn't let up, continuously nagging both Seamus and Mike for details. Seamus (bless his soul) refused to answer their questions. 

James had loudly protested when Seamus dragged Mike out of their room and into the mess halls. Marius and Elias gossiping amongst themselves. They greeted the two SAS when they walked in before continuing their gossip. Elias must have said something really funny when Marius burst out laughing, almost falling off his seat. Elias turned his head to look at Mike, giving him a smile that seemed too innocent for it not to be suspicious. He paid no attention to the two Germans and continued on his day, still ignoring the two defenders attempts to get information. 

 

Night came quickly and Mike couldn’t sleep. The other three were already snoring loudly, while he was wide awake, staring at the metal bars holding up Mark’s bed. He sighed and sat up, quickly and quietly leaving the room closing the door behind him. The base was always quiet at night, but the observant can hear crickets chirping outside, the occasional leaky faucet, wind blowing through the halls. Maybe you could even hear Ryad shuffling around, walking from place to place, struggling to sleep. Mike took a page out of Ryad’s book and started wandering the halls. He reached the lounge when he heard some noise coming from inside. Opening the doors, he saw Gilles, sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped around him watching a movie. The Frenchman noticed and smiled softly. “Can’t sleep either, monsieur?” 

Mike shook his head and took a seat next to the other operator. Gilles shifted and draped the blanket over Mike’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Mike sighed and leaned into the touch, relaxing, watching the movie. It quickly turned out to be ‘The Titanic,’ during the scene where everyone drowns. The heartbreaking effect of the scene was negated by how  _ tired _ Mike was. He could feel Gilles occasionally shifting next to him, sinking down, pulling him closer. By the time the Rose let go, Mike had fallen asleep in Gilles’ arms.

 

~~~~~

 

There was a loud scream, shouting, and something breaking. Mike awoke with a loud groan, looking around the room. He was still in the lounge, with the blanket still over his shoulders. Gilles was nowhere to be seen. Shrugging off the blanket, Mike sitting up straight. The screaming was Buck, who had almost fallen off a ladder and seemed to have dropped a decoration on a glass cup. Emmanuelle walked over and handed him a cup of earl gray tea. He took the drink and sat back on the couch, draping the blanket over his legs. Emmanuelle sat down next to Mike and turned on the television.

“Gilles wanted me to tell you that he went out to buy something with Julien when you woke up,” she said after Mike took a sip of the tea. 

“You didn't have to tell me, I know he can take care of himself,” Mike muttered.

The French attacker giggled. “Maybe so. He's just trying to get to know you better, no need to be so hostile.”

 

"I don't understand why Gilles is so keen on 'getting to know me better'," Mike sighed, exasperated.    
Mark and James exchanged annoyed glances.    
"Who's going to tell him?" Seamus whispered.    
James took a deep breath. "He fancies you, you daft cunt!"

Mike’s expression seemed to be the embodiment of the ‘???’ emotion. Wracking his brain, he teed to think of logical explanations for everything, the dinner, the lingering touches, those gentle stares. “Why would he want to fancy me?”

"Yeah, I thought he was smarter than that, " Mark adds. James sniggers and leans against the wardrobe. 

“But why?”

"Because some people are masochistic like that, Maggie. They love to torture themselves by liking an insufferable oaf such as you" James blurts out, getting slightly frustrated.

"What he means," Mark decides to clarify before the two men start a brawl, "is that Gilles sees something in you. You are one of a kind, aye? Surviving in wars even when you are so wrinkly.”

Mike glowered at the three but said nothing else. 

 

Gilles and Julien returned a few hours later, carrying multiple bags each. They set everything down in the kitchen before splitting off to do whatever else it is that the French does on their free time. Mike had gone over to help Monika put away the various things the two Frenchmen bought; meats, vegetables, fruits, drinks, along with plenty of junk food and protein powder. There was a wooden box sitting on the counter. He eyed it suspiciously but paid no attention to it. The two made some small talk, with Monika even dragging Mike into some strange gossip involving Craig and Elias. “I saw them sleeping together, it’s adorable really,” she giggled. 

“Sleeping together how?” Mike asked, walking over to an overhead cabinet. He might regret asking. 

“Sleeping together like how you and Gilles were,” she responded, chipper. 

Mike almost dropped the tub of protein powder on his face. The German laughed and opened the refrigerator. Mike threw the protein powder up onto one of the shelves and turned to stare at the other attacking operator. She took out two water bottles and tossed one to Mike. “Why are you looking at me like that?” She frowned. 

Mike caught the flying bottle and wiped the look of disbelief off his face. Judging by how long he had stayed asleep on the couch and the horrendous sleeping habits of the other operators, there was no doubt at least  _ some _ saw him pressed up against Gilles. He let out a slow sigh and twisted off the plastic cap, taking a drink from the cool water. He shook his head and went back to the counter to fix the mess of plastic bags. He picked one up rubbed it flat against the cool counter before tying it in a loose knot, repeating the process for all the other remaining bags. Monika had disappeared somewhere and someone else walked into the kitchen, heavy yet gentle footsteps echoed through the empty kitchen. They stopped behind him and arms were wrapped around Mike’s torso, gently pulling him against a sturdy, muscled chest. Mike didn’t have to ask any questions to figure out who it was. He could feel the other man’s heartbeat against his back. Gilles slowly swayed back and forth, taking Mike with him. He would probably never admit it out loud, but he’s missed moments like these, intimate touches, warming hugs,  _ everything _ . “I got something for you,” Gilles said softly, leaning down to rest his head on Mike’s shoulder. 

Mike turned his head slightly, looking at the pointman. “Really?” Mike asked, intrigued. 

Gilles hummed in agreement and let go of the smaller Brit, leading him to the island behind the counters. On top, was the wooden box. A hand was placed in the center of Mike’s back while Gilles pulled the box towards them. He held it up for Mike with an optimistic expression. Mike took the box form Gilles’ hands. It was just slightly smaller than your average tissue box, with a clear stain on what seemed like cherry wood. He opened the box, taking a look inside. “Gilles,” Mike breathed out, astonished. In the box, was the engraved pistol from the antique shop, resting on the small, red pillow. 

The tall Frenchman grinned proudly. “Seemed like you wanted it.”

Mike closed the box and stared at the taller man, thankful. “Thank you.”

 

~~~~~

 

The next day was relatively peaceful and quiet. Knowing all the chaos that usually happens within the base, the quiet would not last long. Mike spent his time in the lounge, getting in some well needed downtime. Sitting down on the couch, Mike brought his legs up, sitting tailor style with his head hung low. He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. He let his mind wander, mulling old memories. Childhood, his mother, a familiar face, heat, gunshots, and endless screaming. Never ending panic, people, soldiers, running from gunfire, from mortar shells, seemingly unable to run from the death that constantly seemed to be raining down from above. Silence, then a loud bang right next to Mike. Instantly, terror and dread shot through Mike, snapping him out of his near meditative state, looking around his surroundings, panicked. Everything was blurry, he couldn’t see straight nor breathe properly. It’s been awhile since he’s felt this sort of terror, the kind of uncontrollable fear that comes with panic attacks. Covering his ears, he tried to block out a distorted voice calling out, waiting for everything to go away. Another pair of hands landed on his shoulders. A figure made its way through Mike’s blurry vision, a scared, familiar face, saying unintelligible words. There was yelling, an argument, anger, and the figure was pulled off. 

 

Jordan had stayed with Mike throughout the whole episode, staying by his side, comforting the older man. Mike took a deep breath, sinking further into the couch. Some other operators were standing in the doorway, watching, concerned. “What happened?” Mike asked. He didn’t need to, it was pretty obvious to anyone that saw. 

“Panic attack,” Jordan muttered quietly. “Gilles dropped a book,” he gestured to the fallen encyclopedia of the world on the floor next to the bookshelf. 

Jordan gingerly placed a hand on Mike’s knee, looking up to him, expression struck with pity. “You might want to talk to him. James… said some stupid things.” 

 

Mike was still shaking, pushing back old memories, familiar, scared faces, mutilated bodies. He arrived in front of the GIGN’s room, coming face to face with a closed door. Mike brought up a hand and lightly tapped the door twice with his knuckles. Shortly afterward, the door opened. Gilles stood tall, holding onto the door, appearing solemn, grim. “You alright?” Mike asked, tapping his fingers against his thighs. 

A nod in response. 

Mike huffed and stood straighter, staring down the Frenchman. “Let me in.” 

Gilles wordlessly stepped aside and let Mike into the room, closing the door, waiting for Mike to say something. 

“What did James say?” Mike asked, glancing around the room, noticing that everything was pristine, clean and tidy. Not a single thing didn't look like it didn't belong. 

Gilles shifted his weight onto his left leg and stared straight ahead, obviously contemplating on whether or not he should tell Mike before finally meeting his gaze. “He said I didn't care, that my only motive was -" he trailed off and looked away. 

Mike frowned. Maybe this has something to do with James screaming about Gilles fancying him a few days ago. If that was the case, why would James say that Gilles didn’t care? The entire situation just made his brain hurt. “You don’t really believe that, do you?” Mike asked, running a hand down his face. 

Gilles shrugged. “It’s James, you never know with him.” 

Mike hummed and crossed his arms. “James is a cunt, don’t take whatever he says to heart. It’s better that way.” He stayed quiet and thought for a moment, with the question he so desperately wants to ask lingering in the back of his mind. “Do you?” He finally asked. 

Gilles shot him a confused glance. 

“Do you care?” Mike clarified. 

Gilles staggered, almost looking offended for a moment. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, flabbergasted. He walked forward, stopping a couple feet in front of the Brit. 

Mike shrugged in response. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that he’s missed the feeling of someone actually caring beyond the friendship level, the type of caring that leads to a deep intimacy. He’s missed it, loving glances, gentle touches,  _ everything _ . He didn’t understand why anyone  _ would _ care. As Mark said, he’s been in multiple wars, he’s survived shit he honestly shouldn’t have. He’s  _ damaged _ . And yet, Gilles seems to be willing to be the one to step up to the plate, to be the glue to bond together broken pieces.

 

Mike went back to the SAS room later that night to a guilt ridden James lying face down on the floor with a pile of clothes over him. Sighing, Mike told James to stop being depressed and told him everything was alright. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gouged out a pretty hefty chunk of my nonexistent soul :^))  
> I fear the first little chunk of this might be really OOC... I just honestly needed content to fill it...

The next day was interesting, to say the least. Mike woke up to the loud blaring alarms echoing through the halls of the base along with thirty plus other operators shouting loudly to exit the building. Immediately, Mike sought out James. “What the hell did you do?!” Mike yelled when he spotted the smaller Brit who looked only mildly alarmed. 

James raised his arms up in surrender. “I didn’t do it!” 

Narrowing his eyes, Mike looked around for another culprit to blame. The majority of the operators had cleared out, only leaving the GSG9, all of whom, have trapped Dominic against a wall with disapproving mom looks on their faces. It was kind of amusing really, seeing Elias put on his best ‘I’ll kill you’ face while being a whole two inches shorter than the prankster. 

Marius groaned loudly. “God fucking dammit, Dominic, why must you always start shit?!” He yelled. 

Dominic grinned smugly and crossed his arms. “It’s in my nature.”

“I’ll throw you out a plane, see if it’s in your nature to fly, how about that?”

Rolling his eyes, Dominic leaned against the wall. “I’d like to see you try.” 

At this point, Elias pushed his way past Monika and Marius to straight up sucker punch Dominic in the stomach. “You idiot! You could have killed us all!” Elias yelled, holding onto Dominic’s shoulders, holding the other against the wall. 

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised.”

Monika spoke up. “That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it.”

Dominic groaned and placed a hand on Elias’ head, trying to push him off. “Alright, I get it.” 

Mike scoffed. “I sure hope you don’t plan on killing the entire base another time.” 

“Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?” Dominic asked. 

Everyone said no.

 

Luckily, the fire was contained only within the kitchen, with only the stove being burned - along with some poor soul’s food - but that was neither here nor there. The smell of smoke eventually cleared the building. The only remnants that a fire ever happened was a charred stove and a dark lump of coal from whatever was in the oven when the stove ‘magically’ caught fire. Quickly explaining things to Six, Mike yelled at Dominic to get off his ass and clean up the mess he made. Eventually, Dominic did, but not until after Gilles had to physically drag the German into the kitchen and barricaded him in. 

 

When it was finally done, it felt as if he could finally breathe - as all the remaining smell of smoke in the building has also coincidentally cleared out. It was nearly three when Mike decided to take a leisurely walk through the living quarters. He made it through the halls, stopping in front of the GIGN’s door. He knocked on the closed door twice and awaited a response. Gilles opened the door a few seconds, looking mildly surprised. “What brings you here today?” Gilles asked, stepping aside to let Mike inside. 

Mike shrugged. “Just wanted someone to talk to.” 

Gilles chuckled and closed the door. “Well, I'm flattered you chose me to kill time.” There it was again, that gentle, loving gaze. Mike closed the gap between them and pulled Gilles into a hug, breathing out a heavy sigh against Gilles’ chest. He couldn’t hold back the small hint of fear eating away at him, terrified of rejection, of intimacy, but Gilles didn’t pull away. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Mike and placed a hand under his chin, gently lifting his head up, staring into each other’s eyes, brushing a thumb against the bottom of Mike’s lip. 

“You don’t need to be scared,” Gilles murmured. Damn French bastard read his mind. And suddenly, their lips met. Mike felt as if he was riding sky high like he was a teenager again in the late 1970s. It brought back a sense of familiarity, a thing he thought he'd lost a long time ago. Gilles’ hands slid down to the small of Mike’s back, pulling the smaller man closer, deepening the kiss. He could feel himself starting to relax, to melt into the kiss, to be free,  _ loved.  _

Gilles moved slow, keeping a hand on Mike's face, gravitating towards Gilles’ bunk, spinning around to gently place Mike onto the bed. Mike broke the kiss to lie back, breathing heavily with his face flushed a light pink. 

“Still scared?” Gilles had the audacity to smirk.

Mike childishly stuck out his tongue. “Either fuck me or leave.”

A quiet chuckle. “This is my room, but alright.” With one swift movement, Gilles pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his perfectly toned torso. Muscles flexed with every movement, as he removed his pants, only staying in his boxers. Mike caught himself staring and quickly looked away, embarrassed. Everyone has seen everyone naked at one point or another, usually in the showers or accidentally, but this time it was different, more  _ intimate _ . But Gilles knew Mike was staring and even had the gall to lightly push his head back forward, smirking, and pulled Mike up so he was sitting up, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Mike took the hint and let Gilles pull it up over his head, flinging it to the side. Gilles let Mike take off his pants. He didn’t let up his hungry, almost predatory gaze, following Mike’s hands as he removed his pants, taking his undergarments with it. Shifting awkwardly, he tried to ignore Gilles’ impressive length tenting his boxers. It didn't help that Gilles was looming over him, thick thighs framing his hips. Gilles shot him a concerned look as if asking ‘you sure’ one more time. Mike took a breath and nodded. Defined arms wrapped around him, pulling Mike into Gilles as another kiss was started. Unlike the first, which was slow, sensual, this one was filled with lust, with both seemingly trying to outdo the other, but Mike slowed down to catch his breath, lightly ghosting over Gilles’ arms, up to his shoulders, gasping when Gilles’ hands ran down his sides, grabbing his hips. “There's some lube jammed between the wall,” Gilles stated. 

Mike shot him a confused look, but sure enough, there was lube. He threw the tube at Gilles’ head. “Dirty old man.”

The hands removed themselves from his hips. Chuckling, Gilles uncapped the tube and squeezed some of the gel out onto his coating his fingers. “You're  _ sure _ about this?” Gilles asked. Another precautionary measure. 

Rolling his eyes, Mike nudged the inside of Gilles’ thigh with his knee. “I wouldn't be here if I wasn't no, would I?”

A smile. “I guess not.” Gilles shifted back and onto his right, pulling Mike's legs out from underneath him and held his right out, bending it at a thirty-degree angle while Mike's left leg rested on top of Gilles’. 

It was embarrassing, being in a position like this, but Gilles did his best not to do anything that would make the situation even more so. Gilles pressed a kiss onto Mike's calf, pressing a lubed finger into Mike’s entrance, rubbing circles into Mike’s calf as he tensed up. Gilles pushed in to the knuckle and slowly started pumping in and out, relishing as Mike started relaxing, letting out soft, quiet sighs of content. “Let's proceed slowly,” Gilles says, preaching his already preached enough quote. 

If Mike wasn't so committed, he would have kicked Gilles in the head. Instead, he just groaned loudly, quickly shutting up when another finger was added. Gilles moved them in and out, taking extra care to stretch Mike properly. Gilles’ fingers brushed against something inside of him and he gasped, covering his face with his hands, crying out when Gilles applied more pressure to that one spot. There was no doubt that Gilles could feel his legs trembling. Gilles pulled out his fingers and reached up between the bars and mattress or Julien’s bunk, pulling out… condoms. 

“Why is that there?” Mike asked, peeking through his hands. 

“Julien isn't that subtle when it comes to Elias,” Gilles winked. 

“It’s Julien’s,” Mike deadpanned. 

“Yes.” 

Mike decided it would be best not to ask, but good for Julien, he deserves to be happy.

Gilles ripped off his boxers, throwing them behind him and tore the condom wrapper open. The moment of silence when Gilles took his time prepping himself with one hand while still holding onto Mike’s leg with the other. When Gilles was finished, he slathered his cock with more lube before pressing another kiss against Mike’s leg. “You’re being sappy,” Mike muttered. 

Gilles lined himself up with a chuckle. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“I’m not that old.” 

Gilles hummed, smiling. “Whatever you say.” He slowly pushed in, pausing when Mike tensed up, breathing heavily. His back was arched upward, legs shaking and his jaw dropped open. Any and all sense was knocked out of him, replaced with a pleasure filled haze. Gilles shushed him quietly. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, holding onto Mike’s hip, rubbing in small circles with his thumb 

Mike eventually evened out his breathing and Gilles continued, bottoming out with a soft grunt. Mike removed his hands from his face to hold onto Gilles’ shoulders, panting heavily. Gilles hasn’t even pulled out yet, and he’s already falling apart, gasping and shaking with every breath. 

“You're doing great, don't forget to breathe,” Gilles murmured. 

Mike groaned and kicked the air. “Don't quote Jordan when you're inside of me.”

Gilles let out a loud laugh. “Sorry, couldn't help it.” Gilles repositioned his hold on Mike's leg, resting it on his shoulder. Gilles’ hands ran up and down his sides, ending at his ribs, grinding against Mike, watching his expression turn to pure bliss with his hands holding onto the sheets, twisting them up into a white-knuckled grip as Gilles pulled out slowly, watching intently as Mike shuddered, pulling Gilles in closer with his legs, gasping in pure bliss when Gilles pushed back in once more, repeating the movement until the Brit was a trembling mess underneath him, breathing out in little, pleasure-filled gasps, filling the room. Gilles sighed, and took a quick glance at Mike, studying very expression, every movement. His back had the slightest arch, lifting off the bed, calves, tensing with every movement, yes fluttering opened and closed as if he didn't know what to do. Mike’s hands untangle themselves from the sheets and found their way onto Gilles’ arms, lightly digging his nails into the skin. Out of the corner of his eye, Gilles could see the doorknob rattle and turn. The door opened, and Julien peeked in, confused until his gaze landed on the two in bed. Multiple thoughts were running through his mind, mostly incoherent screaming and panic, but one thought remained clear. This was was a bad situation to be caught in, he would have to explain, and if he stopped, Mike would notice the other person in the room, but not now. So Gilles powered thought the painful awkwardness and continued on as if he and Julien didn't just make eye contact. Julien quickly left the room and closed the door. 

Breathing out a hefty sigh of relief, Gilles leaned forward to place a kiss onto Mike’s forehead, moving down to nibble at a spot on his neck, smiling as Mike leaned into the gesture letting out a soft moan. Mike keened as Gilles brushed against something inside him that made him see stars, pushing himself down into Gilles, meeting the other man’s thrusts, losing more and more control as the pleasure started building up, like water, slowly boiling over, slowly becoming too much to hold back. 

Gilles’ resolve seemed to be breaking, as his expression slowly melded into bliss, letting out a deep groan before fully pushing in once more, grinding against Mike’s hips, watching as the older man underneath him came with a deep shudder, looking up at him with a pleasure filled gaze as he himself got pushed over the edge. “Julien saw us,” Gilles blurted out. 

Mike choked on his saliva. “What?!”

 

~~~~~

 

As amazing as their little romp in the hay was, the next day was absolute torture for Mike. He had to brace himself whenever he stood, sat down or walked, and by God was he sore. It took everything he had not to Punch James in his smug face when he hobbled into the SAS room the next morning. 

“Mike? You alright there?” Dominic asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Before Mike could respond, James spoke up. “He’s quite alright, age is just finally catchin’ up to him, ya know?” James snickered, slinging an arm over Mike’s shoulder, winking at the German. Mike finally had the joy of seeing James’ smug face punched in by his own hands. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kek


End file.
